


The Fires of Vidar

by harrypanther



Series: Paranormal Investigator Hiccup [2]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hiccup is a paranormal investigator, Illegitimacy, Murder, Paradox, Supernatural Elements, Victorian setting and mores, implied infidelity, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrypanther/pseuds/harrypanther
Summary: Supernatural/Modern AU. Finding three mysteriously dead teens causes Sheriff Snotlout Jorgensen to call in his cousin and his band of paranormal investigators once more. Unexpectedly finding themselves in the past, Hiccup has to solve the mystery while thwarting a killer or they will all share the dead teens fate.Sequel to 'the Spectre of Raven Point'
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson
Series: Paranormal Investigator Hiccup [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997128
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	1. The House on Thor's Ridge

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Halloween again and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to deploy paranormal investigator Hiccup Haddock once more. Of course, there are no more spooky lighthouses in need of exorcism but a spooky house, some mysterious murders and a century-old wrong should keep him busy. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon. Rights remain with Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks. 
> 
> Brief reference to family names from ‘Interesting Times’ by Terry Pratchett. The man was a genius. RIP.
> 
> Apologies to Vala 411 for Astrid’s qualifications. But too good not to use!

**1: The House of Thor’s Ridge**

It was foggy in Berk. In fact, around Halloween, it was always foggy in Berk, the cold and precipitous island in the United Archipelago that seemed ground zero for Viking-style beards, head bludgeoning contests and gross muttonheaded stupidity. It wasn’t even a decent, picturesque fog: no, it was a clammy cold fog that got into your bones and made your feel like someone was walking over your grave.

Sheriff Snotlout Jorgensen hated Halloween. He had made it very clear to everyone who asked him and especially his muttonheaded assistants who were determined to try to add some Halloween cheer to the station house. He had so far removed six pumpkins, three ghouls, some bat-shaped bunting and three ‘hilarious’ skeletons that had been hanging from the roof but which caused everyone to have to crawl into the front office for fear of being accidentally kicked in the face by a rather sharp fake skeletal foot. Of course, Halloween had been fun as a child, when pumpkin pie and sweets from Trick or Treating played a large part in the celebration but as Sheriff, the holiday had lost its lustre the previous year when a young lad had been horribly murdered, leading Snotlout and his idiot deputies Ruffnut and Ruffnut Thorston, along with his cousin, his cousin’s fiancée and his cousin’s business partner to be trapped inside the horribly spooky lighthouse at Raven Point with a raging spirit and a lot more fire than was strictly necessary. That had led to the answer to a decades-old murder and a horrific tale of serial child abuse, abduction and murder that had caused Snotlout unwanted attention for about six months as Berk struggled to salvage its reputation.

Of course, Hiccup had swanned off back to his architect’s practice on Dragonia, the main island, with his gorgeous girlfriend Astrid and his geeky friends Fishface or something similar, leaving Snotlout to field the flack. The fact he had only taken up the post about eighteen months earlier and no one had vanished during that time had protected him from most of the criticism though his father, uncle, other uncle and grandfather had been solidly in the firing line for their incompetence over a period of decades in completely missing the disappearances. It had caused the Mayor-Hiccup’s father and Snotlout’s maternal uncle-to institute a ‘root and branch’ overhaul of the police department. Though what horticulture had to do with his competence as a Sheriff eluded Snotlout. It had meant that Snotlout and his entire department had been sent on multiple course, retraining and mentoring by a senior officer from Dragonia. Commander Throk had been a harsh taskmaster and the fact he was visiting for his monthly appraisal just put Snotlout in a worse mood.

And then, of course, there was the obligatory missing persons call.It was coming up to Halloween so the youth of Berk-who seem imbued with the same amount of self-preservation as achicken walking into a slaughterhouse-decided to stay in various dangerous locations. Old stone formations, haunted rotting houses, old lighthouses, Viking burial sites, the graveyard, the Cove… wherever they could manage to put themselves in danger of freezing, drowning, being hit by falling masonry, collapsing buildings, wild animals, maybe supernatural threats…

“How many?” Snotlout asked grimly, driving up towards Thor’s Ridge and the old ‘haunted house’ that was the last stated location of the missing Juniors.

“Three,” Gustav Larson replied, making notes on his clipboard. While Snotlout was short and stocky with slicked back raven hair and cool blue eyes, Gustav was a skinny ex-teen (he had turned twenty the previous week) with spiky black hair, grey eyes and boundless enthusiasm. For some reason, he idolised Snotlout and was modelling himself on his hero…though, as Snotlout noted, he was slightly smarter and worked his ass off. In the last year, he had completed six online courses including forensics, fingerprinting, psychological aspects of criminology, ballistics and poisons. Snotlout was in danger of feeling outsmarted. “Egil Jonsson, Gertrude Kalla and Elf-face McSweeney.”

“McSweeney?”

“Old long-established Viking name,” Gustav replied, deadpan.

“What kind of name is Elf-Face?”

“The kind you get when your parents are hippies and think cannabis is more essential than food,” Gustav commented, the snarkiest Snotlout had heard his deputy.

“Really?” Snotlout hummed, chewing on his cigar.

“Her sisters are named Star, Ayuvedi and Thorn while her brothers are Gilgamesh and Bryan.”

“Bryan?”

“He changed his name legally from Asteroid on his eighteenth birthday,” Gustav said grumpily. “My parents smoked a lot of weed around the time I was born. My full name is Moon Nirvana Herne Gustav Larson. And my sister Ingrid is actually called Gaia Aether Leilani Ingrid Larson.” He shrugged. “Basically we’re named after our grandparents since those are the only sensible names we had.” Snotlout stared ahead as they headed up the road towards the old house silhouetted against the mist, the edges blurred. He really wanted to point out that he came from a family where your name ended in _-lout_ if you were male and Moon was quite a good name, if you compared it to Hedgelout, Griplout or Slimelout. Or his newest baby cousin, Pilelout.

“We’re here,” was what he actually said. The SUV pulled to a halt, the crunch of the tyres on gravel loud in the clammy silence. Snotlout glanced over at the compact car, parked by the boarded-up window in what had presumably been a large reception room.

“At least we know they came up here,” Gustav offered, glancing at his clipboard. “That’s their car. The Registration…” Jamming his hat on his head, Snotlout clambered out of the SUV before Gustav could demonstrate any more now efficient he was and walked towards the house, craning his neck to inspect the magnificent Victorian building. There had been something about a fire over a hundred years earlier but whoever had rebuilt the place had done a good job…until it had been abandoned. Rumours of ghosts clung to the place and no one was willing to buy the beautiful mansion because of it. The ground floor windows were all boarded up but the upper floor windows were intact and for a moment, Snotlout thought he saw a face which pulled back from the window…and then he blinked. There was nothing there. He was just imagining it.

“Come on,” he said grumpily and headed for the front door. He had his Master Key as well as a set from the Realtors, Sven’s Viking Homes, so he walked boldly to the front door and pushed.

It opened soundlessly, not even the creak that he had been expecting that seemed customary for any spooky place on the eve of Halloween. A part of the Sheriff felt cheated but as he walked in and stared at the three shapes huddled in the middle of the magnificent entrance hall, a few feet in front of the spectacular sweeping staircase, he realised that the lack of a creak was the least of his worries.

“Call the Mayor, the twins, the Cornoner, an ambulance and my cousin,” he groaned as he turned and headed for the door. The entire room was pristine except for the three charred shapes, huddled on an untouched Persian rug, that had once been three Junior students at Berk High.

He needed a smoke.

-o0o-

The Ferry docked half an hour early and the sleek, dark SUV made its way up the new road to the main level of the town and the Police Station. Parking up, the three people inside clambered out and stretched.

“That was a rough journey,” the blonde commented, shoving her sleeves up to her elbows and stretching with an audible crack. Dressed in combat boots, combat fatigues, a baby blue vest top and brown leather bolero jacket, she looked ready for action. The fact she had a lithe, athletic body, a beautiful face with big blue eyes and pink lips topped by a leather headband restraining her casually braided golden hair meant that there was precisely no chance that she wouldn’t turn heads but she only had eyes for the driver. Dressed in brown leather pants and jacket with a rust red open-necked shirt and a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, the man was tall and lanky with bright green eyes and tousled auburn hair.

“Yeah-being confined to the car due to the rough weather was pretty tough,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. His sharp-jawed face was lit by a smile as his fiancee grinned at him.

“You think your cousin will have realised I am yours yet?” she asked him playfully.

“Precisely no chance, Milady,” Hiccup Haddock-architect and part-time paranormal investigator-replied. The third member of the party-Finlay ‘Fishlegs’ Ingerman, a husky man with pudding bowl blond hair and braided horseshoe moustache-groaned.

“Can we go in?” he asked. “I need coffee.”

“We all need coffee,” Astrid, the blonde woman agreed. “Though the side-order of clumsy flirting is less than welcome. And anyway, it looks like rain.” Hiccup squinted at the grey sky.

“Well, it snows here nine months a year and rains the other three so that’s a fair bet,” he conceded as they walked into the building.

A lanky shape leapt out at them wearing a skeleton mask followed by another wearing a green-skinned witch mask.

“SURPRISE!” they yelled.

“Gah!” Hiccup managed, recoiling but Astrid was quicker. Shoving Hiccup back, she punched the witch in the face, spun and slammed her booted foot into the skeleton’s chest and then followed up by throwing the witch across the room, to slam into a desk laden with plastic pumpkins and bats.  
  
“OW!”

“What’s happening?” Snotlout snapped, emerging from his office with a pissed-off look on his face. He had just finished speaking with the third set of distraught parents and comforting bereaved relatives gave him a headache. The solid presence of Mayor Stoick Haddock had helped-though not as much as Snotlout had hoped because ultimately, it was his responsibility.

“The twins decided to try to jump out on our supernatural investigators dressed in stupid halloween masks,” Gustav said from the photocopier. “I was hoping they would be staked or shot with silver bullets.”

“We heard that, Mini-Snot!” the ‘witch’ protested from behind the desk. A very dishevelled Tuffnut emerged. Long blond dreadlocks framed a long face with wide eyes. “And we do not appreciate your feeble attempts at humour.”

“I would guess neither did she,” Gustav retorted, gesturing to Astrid, who had her foot on the ‘skeleton’s chest and was glaring down at the lanky shape with fat blond braids.

“Yield or I will throw you out the window,” Astrid growled, a sharpened stake suddenly in her hand. Ruffnut ripped her mask off.

“Hey! But okay,” she protested, raising her hands in surrender. Breathing hard and scowling, Astrid took a step back and allowed the deputy to get up, casting suspicious looks at the fierce blonde.

“She’ll be better with coffee,” Hiccup suggested. “The kitchens were closed on the ferry due to the bad weather so we’re all caffeine deprived. It makes Astrid _very_ grumpy…” There was a rush and the twins and Gustav all immediately offered the blonde cups of black coffee. She graciously accepted one from the youngest deputy and left the twins to supply her friends. Snotlout groaned.

“Just once, it would be nice for my team to act like adults…or at least, not elementary school kids,” the Sheriff commented and then offered Hiccup his hand. “Cuz. I am so glad to see you.”

“Me too-though so sorry in these circumstances,” the auburn-haired man replied, shaking his cousin's hand. “And sorry about the muttonheaded twins…” Snotlout leaned closer.

“Boy, she really is fierce,” he commented in a low voice. “Are you okay, cuz? She’s not…like this…you know…upstairs…?” Blushing so fiercely that he thought he would catch on fire, Hiccup gave a yelp.

“Snotlout-never even think about Astrid in that context again or I will allow her to kill you,” he said shortly. “And she’s not only an expert at unarmed combat but she could dispose of you and they would never find the body.” Snotlout looked unimpressed.

“Really?” he said cynically. Hiccup smiled, seeing his fiancee perch primly on the edge of Gustav’s desk and sip her black coffee.

“Well, she has an online degree in Forensic Science and has taken several courses in Archipelago Geology,” he pointed out. “Means she knows how to kill you to leave no clues and where to hide the body.” Snotlout paled and retreated to his office.

“I think we need to get on with this briefing,” he said, trying to scramble his dignity again. Hiccup followed him into his office with Astrid and Fishlegs a step behind. Gustav and the twins sat on the low bench to one side as Snotlout closed the door and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We have had three deaths,” he began. “Three seventeen year old Juniors from Berk High. They headed up to Loki’s Leap, the old house on Thor’s Ridge, for the night on the 29th. Their family confirmed they received the last communication from them at 8:12 pm. When they didn't return and there was no response the next morning, we were sent up to investigate.” He sighed.

“Take your time,” Hiccup murmured. The Sheriff sat back and sipped his tea.

“They were all dead-lying just in front of the bottom of the stairs. Each one was horribly charred and burnt-as if they had been in an inferno. But there was no sign of any fire, either there or upstairs-yes, we did check!” he added irritably as Fishlegs opened his mouth. The husky man went back to making copious notes.

“Cause of death?” Astrid asked quietly.

“Smoke inhalation,” Snotlout confirmed. “The burning was after they had died.”

“Anyone else there?” Fishlegs asked.

“It’s very isolated but traffic cameras caught nothing,” Gustav reported.

“Anything on the cell towers?” Hiccup asked.

“Nope,” Ruffnut replied. “In fact, the kids’ phones vanished from the network around nine in the evening and no one has found them yet. There is no signal to trace at all.”

“Very weird,” Tuffnut added. “All their personal effects had vanished as well. Only the car remained.”

“Interesting,” Hiccup murmured. “Three bodies burnt with no evidence of heat or burning anywhere else, no one else was there and their cellphones are missing.” He looked over at his friends. “What do you think?”

“The house must have history or the kids wouldn’t have gone up there,” Fishlegs mused. “I’ll do some digging.”

“As soon as he has some research, we need to go up there,” Astrid added. “I’ll check who owns the house and if they have any ideas…”

“It’s a family-the Jacobsens-who moved away from Berk years ago,” Snotlout told her helpfully. “They haven’t been answering my calls.” The blonde smiled.

“I’d like to have a try, all the same,” she murmured. Hiccup gently brushed his hand against hers and nodded.

“I have every faith in you,” he reassured her. “I’ll scope for electromagnetic phenomena. If there was a powerful spirit at work, there would be an effect on the local grid if it attacked these children.” Snotlout groaned.

“We’re already the child murder capitol of the North,” he explained, resting his head in his hands. “Your Dad and I have been trying to convince people that Berk is a safe place to come. This will really not help.”

“Only because you couldn’t mention the ghost last time,” Hiccup pointed out. “This time, we’ll set up detectors, scanners, cameras…we’ll get you some evidence so that you can show people what went down.”

“Ghosts-yeah,” Tuffnut said with enthusiasm. “There could be a lot of tourism if we had actual proof of ghosts!”

“Yeah-I’d come here to see them,” Ruff added.

“Muttonhead-you already live here,” her twin told her with a roll of the eyes.

“That just makes it a cheap trip,” Ruff retorted, undaunted.

“What can I do?” Gustav asked enthusiastically. Hiccup gave a smile and looked over at his cousin.

“You know, I have a job for you,” he said. “Come with me, Deputy Larsson…”

-o0o-

Sitting in his car in front of the house, Hiccup was perplexed. There had been a surge on the Berk grid at 8: 58 the previous evening and another at seven in the morning. Three circuit breakers had tripped in the hospital, which was how it had been noticed and old Gothi had reported seeing flickering lights from up on Thor’s Ridge just before dawn. But when he had Gustav had set up the detectors, they were recording nothing. Nil. Nada. Absolutely zero. Which in itself was completely weird since a settlement as old as Berk inevitably had some background activity from all the deaths, murders, invasions and simply the sheer weight of a thousand years of religious and other history. But the dials were all glued to zero-despite the detectors checking out on the tests.

Gustav was eager to please and willingly helped the older man out. Hiccup winced at the thought: he couldn’t get his head round the concept that he was ‘the older man’ when he was literally still under thirty (he’d turned twenty-eight on Leap Day this year…or technically ‘seven’ which Astrid hadn’t let him forget for a month). But the young deputy was exhaustingly enthusiastic so Hiccup sent him round to check the sensors again while he sat by his computer and scanned the information Fishlegs had sent him. There was a one hundred and thirty year old police file-which was worse than useless, since Sheriff Poxlout Jorgensen had seemed unable to type coherently or even spell. The papers had been little better-the Berk Chronicle mentioned the tragedy in passing because there had been a large sheep auction the previous day. Fortunately, thirty years earlier, an enterprising reporter had investigated the century-old mystery and this article was thorough and replete with detail and especially pictures. Reading it twice, he stared at the faces of the protagonists and wondered what had really happened. The fire and deaths had been blamed on the new-fangled electricity supply that the owner, Karl Stenersen, had installed the previous Spring but the reporter had done some digging and it seemed the fire had started in the attic before the entire house was consumed.

_That makes no sense,_ Hiccup through, frowning. _Fire moves up, not down. And for the whole house to burn when the first fire was supposedly in the attic means…it was no accident._

_So why did the teens get involved. Something went wrong with the plan of whoever set the fire._

He got out of the car.

_I don’t like this,_ he admitted silently as Gustav ambled back towards him. He could hear cars approaching and knew that the twins would be bringing Astrid and Fishlegs up. It was time to go inside and something at the back of his neck was telling him not to go. A cold shiver ran through him and he sighed and turned to the two SUVs. Snotlout emerged, looking tired with an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth.

“You know that Astrid wouldn’t ride with me and the twins wouldn’t allow her to ride with them unless Fishlegs was there to protect them,” he sighed. “Sometimes I feel like I’m running a daycare centre. Anything on your fancy sensor doohickies?”

“Nothing-not even normal background,” Hiccup said, watching as Astrid clambered down and walked confidently towards him. The twins were cowering until she was clear and then they relaxed while Fishlegs was also peering at his phone.

“Have you seen these readings?” he exclaimed, scuttling forward in a manner such a large man should not be able to achieve. Hiccup grinned.

“I know!” he agreed, and smiled enthusiastically. “The suppression of normal background and the resonance in the lowest bands strongly suggests…”

“Geeking of the highest order,” Astrid sighed and checked her supplies of Holy Water and salt. She glanced over at Snotlout. “Look-I’m engaged to Hiccup and getting flirted with really annoys me. You know better but you tried three times in the Police Station. He’s your cousin and because you asked, he dragged us halfway across the Archipelago. No hesitation, maybe a bit of moaning but he never considered for one second not helping you out. Can’t you for one day treat him with the same respect he shows for you?” The Sheriff stared at her in astonishment and then his shoulders slumped.

“I…er…” he mumbled and then sighed. “Look-there’s no one like you on Berk. Seriously. And I flirt with everything because…well…I’m lonely.” He shrugged. “I mean, my dog Hookfang is okay company but…”

“Hookfang? Oh my Thor!” Astrid sniggered. “He sounds like he desperately needs the doggy dentist!” Snotlout chuckled.

“Oh, he’s way beyond their help,” he admitted as the twins stared at them suspiciously.

“She’s lulling him into a false sense of security before she pounces and attacks the poor sap,” Tuff muttered. Ruff nodded.

“We need to watch her,” she said suspiciously as Hiccup and Fishlegs walked up, still swapping facts. “She seems a little edgy…” But Tuff frowned at her.

“You remember her last year?” he asked. “She picked li’l Hiccy up bridal style and carried him up the Lighthouse! And she was badass against the ghost.”

“So why is she more protective this year?” Ruff asked suspiciously. “Something’s not right. Her reaction was completely over the top.”

“Well-you can ask her,” Tuff told his sister plainly. “My back still hurts where she threw me over the desk.”

“See?” the female twin asked him pointedly, her grey-blue eyes narrowing as she inspected the athletic blonde. “Trust me, brother-we need to watch her.” But unconscious of their whispering, Astrid turned her brilliant smile on her fiancé, watching him grinning, his emerald eyes flashing in excitement as they shared some other thrilling item of data or theory. Astrid really wasn’t so well up on the science and statistics but she was efficient, brave, hardworking and had done everything possible to be of use to Hiccup in his paranormal ventures.

“Any clues?” Snotlout asked, patting his pocket for a light and then thinking better of it, instead tucking his cigar into his breast pocket to enjoy later.

“Electrical surges at the time all contact was lost with the kids’ phones and again shortly before dawn, a few hours before they were found,” Hiccup reported.

“But the readings around this place are the lowest I have ever seen,” Fishlegs continued. “No electromagnetic or etheric radiation. No motion. The temporal readings are reading…nothing.” He frowned. “This place is like a hole in space, time and dimension.”

“That’s good, right?” Snotlout hazarded. 

“I would guess no by his expression,” Ruff commented, seeing Fishlegs’s jaw drop.

“In fact, the only way we can investigate further is to go in,” Hiccup added. The deputies all stared at the house, still swathed in fine tendrils of fog, the dark and foreboding clouds almost brushing the roof and concealing the jagged Berkian mountain peaks above.

“Why is he suggesting we go into the scary murder house on a foggy, spooky Halloween?” Gustav asked, his voice a little higher than usual.

“You weren’t with us last time, were you?” Ruff asked dryly. “We raised the exact same thing.”

“Though of course, no one paid any attention to our timely warning and we all nearly got killed,” Tuff added.

“Your point?” Gustav squeaked.

“Just putting it out there,” Tuff replied.

“Again,” Ruff sighed as they all walked into the mansion of Loki’s Leap.

The moment they arrived into the wide hallway, the shadows clustered in the corners and the grand staircase sweeping up into the gloom. Astrid slowly turned through 360 degrees, her eyes seeking for threats while Hiccup and Fishlegs played their devices over the room.

“Nothing,” the husky man murmured. “I see what you mean. It’s _below_ the normal background rate of Berk.” Hiccup frowned and slowly turned through a full 360 degrees again.

“All bands,” he murmured and then glanced at his phone. As he watched, the bars on the signal display slowly vanished. “Astrid?” She glanced up them pulled out her own device.

“What the Thor?” she mouthed. “Three bars…two…one…NO SIGNAL?”

“Does anyone have any signal?” Hiccup asked urgently as everyone checked their phones.

“Nope?” Snotlout said.

“Me neither,” Gustav put in.

“Nada. Nil. Zip. Nyet…” Tuffnut added.

“Levels rising exponentially,” Fishlegs announced, frowning. “Mainly higher frequency.”

“And ultra low,” Hiccup frowned. “Static and humidity rising.”

“So I see,” Astrid commented, as both the twins’ hairs were sticking up like a halo.

“OW! I shocked myself!” Tuff complained.

“Door! Now!” the blonde woman ordered, turning. But they hadn’t taken two steps when the doors slammed shut.

“Perfect!” Snotlout groaned, hammering on the wood. It was like hitting rock.

“These levels even exceed the ones we had on Raven Point,” Fishlegs said, a note of worry sounding. “And that was a very angry spirit.”

“This one seems even more angry,” Hiccup muttered as static began to flash off the old fixtures and fittings. The group huddled together. “Any suggestions? I’m open!”

“You’re the expert!” Gustav said, a hysterical note entering his voice.

“Chill, mini-Snot!” Ruff reassured him, wrapping a companionable arm around his shoulders. “You weren’t with us last time. This is nothing to worry about.”

“You mean apart from the fact that last time you were trapped in a Lighthouse that eventually burnt down?” Gustav asked wildly. Snotlout stood away from the group and drew his gun.

“Stand back!” he announced and poured the entire magazine into the door. But when the noise of the shots finally faded, the bullets were lying undamaged on the ground, a foot in front of the Sheriff. Eyes wide, he stared at the floor then at his gun.

“That’s weird…” Tuff noted and crouched down to pick up one of the bullets. “Hmm. They’re stone cold.”

“Levels off the scale!” Fishlegs whimpered. Astrid grabbed her vials of Holy Water and lobbed them around the group but instead of smashing on the carpet, they hung gently rotating in the air. Undeterred, she grabbed a heavy silver cross from her belt and held it up with both hands, almost like a warrior wielding a sword before a battle. Her expression was determined.

“ _Pater noster, qui es in caelis,_

_sanctificetur nomen tuum._

_Adveniat regnum tuum._

_Fiat voluntas tua,_

_sicut in caelo, et in terra…_ ”

she said, her voice level and calm, the words ringing through the room. Hiccup stared, seeing static crackle around her-and then she suddenly jerked, her azure eyes wide before she vanished.

“ASTRID!” he yelled and jerked towards her. But just as instantly, the static surround the rest of the group and Hiccup felt as if he was being lifted up, swirled around and then pulled apart.

And then he knew no more.


	2. A House Party At Loki's Leap

**2: A House Party at Loki’s Leap**

He opened his eyes and frowned, wondering what had happened.

“Mister Haakon, are you unwell?”

He frowned and glanced up, seeing the sunlight filter through the trees. The warm, soft Summer breeze carried scents of roses and jasmine from the landscaped gardens and he smiled, running a hand over his face.

“I am well, thank you,” he said, the sound of his voice strange even to him. “I apologise. My thoughts wandered, just for a moment.” The woman moved closer, the dark pink satin Victorian dress complete with full bustle rustling . Her hair was a very dark blonde, elegantly constrained in a magnificent knot and her blue eyes were knowing.

“It is not unusual, especially when the official announcement is in the morning,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “I would be worried if my daughter’s suitor was not affected in some way…” He managed a watery smile.

“Mrs Stenersen, I am beyond honoured that you and your husband entrust the future of your only child to me,” he found himself saying, wondering where the words came from. “Agatha is precious to me and you have my eternal promise that I will always put her needs before my own.” The woman patted his arm reassuringly.

“That is why we introduced you to her,” she reminded him. “When it was obvious that the Gods would not grant us a son-or another child-then our focus turned to finding the best man to marry our daughter and assume our fortune. And you were the perfect man-intelligent, an excellent businessman and devoted to Agatha.” He felt himself smile.

“I know I was not the first choice,” he confessed.

“But ultimately, you were the only choice,” she reassured him as he walked alongside her to the elegant house, the wide French doors to the Sun Room open to allow the breeze to cool the magnificent mansion. “Loki’s Leap and the estate are a rich prize and many suitors only saw the inheritance, not the young woman. Neither Karl nor I wanted to sell our daughter to some grasping man who treated her as a chattel-but he had to be a man who had the business acumen to build upon the inheritance, rather than fritter it away.” He ducked his head modestly as they walked into the Sun Room, seeing two of the other house guests talking quietly, fanning themselves in the heat.

“My father taught me to never take anything for granted-not in business or family or love,” he revealed slowly. “My mother died when I was small so I saw first hand how her loss dimmed his light. And I swore never to take anything lightly because success, happiness, love can be taken from you in the blink of any eye.” The woman patted his hand and then turned away.

“I look forward to you becoming my son in law,” she murmured as vanished back to her other guests. He smiled and walked deeper into the cool of the house, glancing to his side and catching his reflection in the ornate golden mirror.

It was like being hit by a hammer and he staggered, his emerald eyes widening. Auburn hair that was neatly coiffured seemed wrong, his mind supplying a more tousled style while his angular, sharp-jawed face was framed by mutton chops that were the latest style. A few freckles were scattered over his pale skin and he blinked.

“Hiccup…” he murmured. “Not Haakon. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock.” Then he looked around. “Where am I?” Then he glanced at his reflection, seeing the crisp white shirt, dark green necktie, deep brown suit and gold half-Hunter pocket watch. “More precisely, when am I?” He blinked and then calmed his breath, images flashing through his memory. “And where are the others?”

Frowning, he walked thoughtfully out through the sun room, glancing over and almost starting. One of the women he had scarcely paid attention to previously, a woman with her blonde hair in a huge roll and an elaborate orange dress, was suddenly hugely familiar.

“Ruffnut,” he murmured but the woman gave an affected laugh and ignored him, leaning close to her friend and whispering away. Hiccup picked up a disparaging comment about him and walked on, taking a turn out in the grounds. Now he was more aware, he could hear the distant sounds of the sea, of waves rushing up on the shore in nearby Thor’s Bay as he followed the elegant gravel paths through manicured beds and carefully-positioned trees. The grounds were magnificently and expensively designed but he felt unnerved and dislocated, suddenly aware he was probably in late Victorian times…when the House was intact…and as he glanced around, amid the knots of besuited men, chatting in twos and threes, he could pick out the shapes of Fishlegs and Snotlout, Tuffnut and Gustav. But there was no sign of Astrid. Taking a deep breath and feeling as if he was being watched, he turned back to the house.

There was a face briefly in a window, a white shadow that retreated as soon as his eyes fell on it. Frowning, a hint of deja vu washed over him, echoing something he had seen from the corner of his eye when he had been sitting outside the abandoned ghost house that Loki’s Leap had become. He swallowed and walked into the Hall, his eyes falling on a neat shape in a black maid’s uniform, the white lace cap resting on tightly braided blonde hair and meek blue eyes. The girl looked down as he approached.

“Excuse me-could you please bring me some paper and a pencil, Miss…?” he asked. She bowed her head.

“Yes, sir,” she said and turned away, unwilling to meet his eye. But though the colouring was right, the face was not. It wasn’t Astrid.

“Excuse me!” he called. She paused. “Your name?” She glanced back.

“Cristina, sir," she replied timidly and then left almost at a run. He frowned and then turned to walk into the Library, sitting down and closing his eyes. He needed to figure out what was happening and for that, he needed some peace and quiet and an ability to access his photographic memory. Footsteps sounded and he frowned, glancing up…and then scrambling to his feet. For standing before him in a light blue silk gown, the bodice embroidered with small flowers, was Astrid. Her hair was swept up into the elegant bun that seemed to be the current fashion and her azure eyes flashed in delight as she saw him.

“Haakon!” she said and it was her voice. And though he was delighted to see her, a part of him cringed in dismay, for she clearly didn’t recall him really…or herself. And though she was undoubtedly Astrid, this was another time…

“Astrid,” he murmured and she froze, then frowned at him. “Divine beauty. Sometimes, I think your parents missed the mark with your name.”

“Agatha means good,” she reminded him, smiling. He bowed his head and took her hand, bowing and pressing his lips to her knuckles.

“Milady,” he murmured and she giggled.

“Where did that come from?” she asked him softly. He straightened up and rested his hand over his chest.

“My heart,” he told her. “Of all those who sought your hand, I never looked at what your father offered. Because I have been in love with you from the moment I saw you. That your father approves of our match, well, I thank Odin every day…” Her hand closed around his and she took a step closer.

“You sap,” she murmured as he leaned close, gently lifting a hand to run the backs of his fingers in a featherlight caress over her cheek. He smiled.

“Your sap, Milady,” he murmured. “And I will do whatever I have to in order to protect us…to protect you. Whatever you want it to mean, there will always be a Haakon and Agatha.” She looked into his eyes and there was adoration there, reminding Hiccup that the article he had read listed all the men who had been courting Agatha, many of them much older and only interested in the lands and money that accompanied her hand…or the sons that she could produce. How would Astrid-his Astrid, not this pale imitation of her true character-cope in such a society? He had every faith in her but he wondered how her spirit would cope with such restrictions, especially if she had been gifted to such a controlling husband instead of the decent man he seemed to be inhabiting.

“Miss Agatha!” A voice harshly cut across his thoughts and he looked up sharply, though he did not move away from the young woman. Her grip on his hand tightened before she exhaled wearily.

“Yes, Marit?” An older maid in the identical black dress, white lace cap and apron was standing at the door, an unpleasant look on her face. She was a fading blonde, her thick hair braided over her head like a crown and blue eyes cold.

“You should not be unchaperoned,” she reminded the young woman.

“You of all people know we are to be engaged,” Agatha replied but the maid walked forward determinedly.

“Not if you behave like a harlot!” she hissed.

“You overstep your station!” the girl snapped back, turning to face her. “You are not my governess nor my personal maid. Do you have a message or are you just interfering?” The woman pressed her lips together in a thin line.

“Your mother wishes you to join her and her friends in the Sun Room,” she said roughly and then turned away without asking permission to leave. Hiccup frowned and then sighed as Agatha looked rueful.

“Much as I hate it, she is right,” she sighed. "Even at this late stage, my father could change his mind if he imagines you presume too much. And then he would hand me to Snorri Jorgensen.”

“Jorgensen?” Hiccup frowned, a nasty suspicion crossing his mind.

“He’s in the garden with his younger brother Gustav, discussing with Mister Fischer the accountant,” Agatha told him. “I believe he is related to the Sheriff’s family but his father went into business and is considerably more successful…though he is obviously only here for his own aggrandisement!”

“Sounds like Snot,” Hiccup murmured. Agatha frowned.

“Snot?” she murmured. Rubbing the back of his neck, he gave an embarrassed smile.

“I have known Mister Jorgensen from childhood and Snot was his nickname…at Public School in England,” he said hastily. She nodded in understanding.

“I can’t understand why anyone would send their sons so far away for schooling but most of my suitors have been to Eton or Harrow so I guess it is just…expected,” she sighed as he nodded.

“Times change, Milady-and one thing I promise,” he said honestly. “If we are blessed, I will never send our child away from his loving parents.” She smiled at him and then walked out, turning back to the Sun Room as he settled in the Library. Cristina reappeared and silently handed over a pad of paper and a sharpened pencil. He thanked her absently and sat down, grasping the pencil in his hand and jotting down every name from the house he could recall. Then he closed his eyes, as of reading the pages of the article and reviewing the stern faces that stared back at him from reproduced sepia images.

_Suitors: Haakon, Snorri Jorgensen, Lars Svensson, Sven Larrson, Bjarne Bjornsen_

_Hosts: Karl Stenersen, Dagmara Stenersen, Agatha Stenersen_

_Other Guests: Ragnahilde and Thorstein Gunnarson, Frode Fischer, Gustav Jorgensen, Bertha Carlsson, Jori Bjerklund, Anders Hanevold, Petter Eklund, Olav Nielsen_

_Servants…_

He looked up, his pencil hovering. There were no servants named in the article-and everyone who was named had their remains located and honourably buried. So if they weren’t named, did they escape the fire? Were they not found? Were they ever granted a decent burial?

_Were they the ones who were so angry?_

A soft step alerted him and he glanced up to see Marit standing at his side.

“I brought you some iced tea, sir,” she said stiffly, placing the bone china cup on the little table at his elbow. “Plenty of honey, just as you like it.”

“Thank you, Marit,” he said with a smile. She nodded and turned away. Idly, he stirred the tea and stared at the names. Why had no one found the servants? Why had no one looked? But then, the accounts were that the fire was fierce and no one escaped the inferno. But had no one missed them? Had no one noticed two women were burnt to death without anyone mourning?

Idly he lifted the cup and lifted it to his lips…and then he paused.

_Or were the servants already angry?_

There was a residue in the cup, flecks floating in the clear amber liquid that should not be in a cup of iced tea. The strong smell of honey overpowered any other scents rising from the liquid but he stared and carefully sniffed. There was just a chemical edge he could detect if he concentrated and he rose very carefully, pouring the entire contents into the pot of a very fine Aspidistra. Then he returned the tea cup to the saucer and rose, tucking the pad under his arm. Nodding at Marit, who was just emerging from the passage to the kitchen, he smiled.

“Thanks for my tea,” he told her cheerfully. “Just the right amount of honey.” She nodded.

“Cristina makes a fine cup, sir,” she said. “I would hope you keep her on when you are Master.”

“You should be proud of her-she is a fine young lady,” he said but her scowl intensified.

“She is no lady,’ she bit out, though her voice was bitter. “But I am proud of her.”

“And her father?” he asked softly. Her eyes flashed.

“He rejected her,” she spat. “He said a daughter could never inherit so he would not recognise her. He changed his tune when all he could get was a daughter himself…” Then her mask was back in place. “Pardon my outspokenness, sir. I would ask that you forget my outburst.”

“You have my word,” he said, watching her walk past and through a small door to the servants’ stairs at the back of the house. He listened until her footsteps retreated. _Because you expect me not to live to be able to share them._ He frowned. _And I can only safely drink tap water until I find a way to get home._

Heading out into the lengthening afternoon shadows, he made his way towards Snotlout-or Snorri. Intellectually, he knew there had been a few successful Jorgensens in the past but he had never heard of Snorri…or Gustav. Presumably because they died young in the fire and never contributed anything worthy of recollection by the surviving muttonheaded branch of the family. He suspected that not even his cousin actually knew, though he seemed to be inhabiting his distant uncle’s life.

Trying to engage in conversation with Snorri Jorgensen was an immensely frustrating exercise. The man was like a bad reflection of his cousin when he was younger, before Snotlout had grown up and matured. Every attempt at conversation was met by boasting, a sneering put-down and comments about he would make a better match for Agatha than Haakon so in the end, Hiccup withdrew. Gustav had supported his ‘brother’ and shaking his head, the auburn-haired man turned away, convinced neither had any recollection of their old lives. The hairs on the back of his neck were prickling and he guessed that he was being observed so he went in search of the twins, eventually finding Tuffnut talking with Fishlegs and two older men.

“Fishlegs-a word?” Hiccup muttered sotto voce and the husky man frowned.

“Fishlegs? _Fish? Legs_?” he scoffed. “Sir, I feel your humour is ill-advised.”

_Frode Fischer the accountant,_ Hiccup realised. _The man who approved the engagement. What father makes the decision to approve a suitor on the basis of their business accounts?_

“My apologies, Mister Fischer,” he said hurriedly.

“Very poor taste,” Tuffnut condemned him.

“I fear I was labouring under a misapprehension-it was mentioned to me that the word was a name you welcomed from comrades and friends,” Hiccup told him.

“And yet, you are neither,” Fishlegs told him coldly. Bowing his head, Hiccup withdrew.

_Looks like I’m truly on my own._

-o0o-

During the afternoon, he managed to snag a paper to confirm that they were indeed living the day of the fire and when afternoon tea was served, he made sure he declined any tea served by the servants-though he snaffled Agatha’s cup. Afterwards, he loitered in the Library, watching the servants come and go. He realised that the Cook lived in a cottage by the Bay so she would not have been involved in the fire but surely she would have known about the others? It didn’t make sense.

And then the old lawyer, Anders Hanvold, was taken ill. Pale with blue lips and frothy-sounding breath, he was helped upstairs by Karl Stenersen and Hiccup, who helped put the old man to bed, promising to send for a physician. Hanevold, though, refused.

“It’s just a mild turn,” he murmured. “I’ll take my dropsy pills and I’ll be right as rain in the morning.” Unable to persuade him otherwise, they had left him-though Stenersen had looked sad.

“He’s not got long left,” he murmured. “It’s the fourth turn this year. I’m not sure where I’ll find such a loyal lawyer when he’s gone.” Hiccup paused, clasping his hands behind his back.

“I am sure you will find one when the time comes,” he said calmly, watching the man, Looking up, Hiccup was struck by the coldness of his eyes.

“I know you will take care of my daughter-but do not forget your primary duty is to the estate and the inheritance,” he told his future son-in-law. “No scandal. No impropriety. My daughter deserves a loyal and committed husband.”

_While you fathered a child with your servant,_ Hiccup realised and nodded, though he felt nauseated by the hypocrisy.

“There is no danger of that, sir,” he assured the man. Offering a curt nod in response, he walked away as Hiccup felt a sense of foreboding. Turning, he saw the hem of a black dress vanishing round the corner and his anxiety levels rose. Somehow, he guessed the old lawyer would be dead before the fire even took hold. He hoped the lawyer had enjoyed his tea.

Dinner was scheduled for seven and even though one of the guests was ill, there was no reason to postpone. So the small gong was struck on the stroke of seven and the guests descended the sweeping stairs and made their way to the magnificent dining room. Hiccup found himself opposite Agatha and between Mrs Stenersen and Ragnahilde-who, though inhabited by the female deputy, was definitely not Ruffnut. Ragnahilde was far more sharp-tongued and conscious of the social structure than her modern counterpart ever was, ruthlessly taunting Agatha for her choice of suitor and for rejecting Snorri, who had been placed at Agatha’s side for the meal. Hiccup was surprised, for he had assumed that he would be seated next to his soon-to-be fiancée and he wondered whether there was an issue. Frode-Fishlegs-was whispering to Karl Stenersen throughout the meal and the way the man was casting him looks made Hiccup wonder whether there was a problem. Had his presence here altered history? But he guessed that the teens had been here as well, if their bodies’ state had been anything to go by.

_If we die here, will we wake up back in modern Berk or will we return as the charred corpses those children did?_

_But he knew the answer to that one as well._

He glanced over at the servants, removing the plates and watched as the women rose, heading for the parlour. Marit was casting coldly furious glares at Mister and Mrs Stenersen and especially at Agatha while Cristina scuttled around timidly, her head down and afraid to meet anyone’s eyes. An elderly footman-the Cook’s husband-marshalled them but it was obvious that he was very much a part-timer brought in to bolster appearances for the sumptuous dinner. Hiccup guessed that usually, the family was served only by the two maids. He was very careful what he ate and drank, not trusting anything that either woman brought him, though Marit’s attitude spoke of her anger at the way she and her daughter had been treated by the Master.

Angry enough to kill? Angry enough to endure?

He glanced over at the disappearing Agatha and found his stomach curled in anxiety. Somehow, his Astrid was trapped as the daughter of this family-he could recall the girl’s true face from the image in the article-and if he wasn’t able to succeed, she would die. He was still distracted as the footman brought round the Port decanter and the cigars and absently, Hiccup accepted a Havana and a glass of Port-but because he was watching out, he inspected his glass and saw a slightly oiliness to the clear ruby liquid and the tell-tale flecks. He placed his glass down with a bang and stood abruptly.

“Don’t drink the port!” he ordered. Everyone looked at him. “It’s tainted!”

The two older men-Petter Eklund and Olaf Nielsen, similar men in impeccable evening dress with white whiskers and beards- both frowned.

“It tastes fine to me,” argued the portlier man-Eklund, Hiccup recalled from the part of him that had briefly been Haakon. The other man nodded.

“Very smooth,” Nielsen added. Hiccup shook his head and danced round the others, noting with relief that the people his friends had ‘become’ had not tried their Port yet.

“There is a lot of sediment and I am certain that should not be served,” he commented. Stenersen, who was on the brink of sipping his own glass, peered at it and muffled an expletive.

“He’s right, my friends,” he said in an irritated tone. Offering a slight bow, Hiccup collected the glasses and rested them on the sideboard, then fished out fresh glasses and an unopened bottle of Port. Without hesitating, he served everyone a fresh class of Port from an untainted bottle. Sniffing it carefully, he took a sip and sighed as he felt the warm liquid slide down his throat. Stenersen nodded.

“My thanks, Haakon,” he said gruffly. “Very observant.” Hiccup sat back and toyed with his cigar.

“It would hardly do for my future father-in-law to be taken ill from Port that has been sitting in its decanter too long,” he commented as the men leaned forward and clapped him on the shoulder.

“I chose well,” he replied and something akin to approval entered his cold eyes before the looked around the table. “Now-who is ready for cards?”

After several rounds of Bridge, the men had finally gone to the parlour to join the ladies-Agatha and her mother, Ragnahilde and two friends of Mrs Stenersen, Jori and Bertha who were both respectable widows of Berk. Ragnahilde was holding court while the older women sniggered at the woman’s outspokenness and Agatha sat quietly, sipping her wine. A shiver of anxiety ran through Hiccup as he saw her drink but the clear strew-coloured liquid in the crystal glass was free of sediment and all thoughts were banished when Agatha looked up and Astrid’s big blue eyes filled with relief at seeing him. Controlling himself with difficulty, he walked to her side and stood by her chair, leaning closer to murmur a few words in her ear.

“Are you well, Milady?” She sighed.

“Everyone is haranguing me that I should have chosen Snorri,” she said in a low voice. “But you are a better businessman and I actually lo…like you. My father agrees. But I suspect that Snorri and his allies have made one last gamble. I don’t trust Mister Fischer.”

“I don’t trust anyone until we are safely married,” Hiccup sighed, recognising the situation. “But I am never giving you up without a fight, Milady.” Then he saw her yawn and the part of him that was Hiccup wanted to grab her hand and take her away from the house to safety before the fire ever happened… “But I apologise. You are exhausted-and it is unfair to keep you from your bed. Tomorrow is a big day: the day we announce our betrothal and the date of our nuptials.” He took her hand and kissed it tenderly. “Sleep well, my love.”

She blushed with a smile and rose. Any of the menfolk who had taken a seat rose as well as the young woman headed upstairs, followed shortly by the other woman. Not long after, the party broke up and Hiccup headed upstairs with relief-and a rising sense of anxiety. Whatever was going to happen would happen that night and there was no place for sleep. The only problem was, thanks to the incompetence of hiscousin’s ancestors, there was almost no information about the actual fire.

But it started in the attic, he reminded himself as he shrugged off his Dinner Jacket and removed his bow tie, loosening his top button and pacing back and forth in his room. He tried sitting in the chair but he couldn’t settle. He opened the window to allow some of the cool breeze to percolate through the room but he found himself sniffing for the scent of smoke and then he ran his hands through his hair.

That’s it. I’m cracking up, he told himself, rising and pacing again. If anyone asked, he could cite anxiety about the forthcoming announcement but the reality was…he was waiting for the catastrophe that caused all their deaths.

And because he was alert and listening, he heard the muffled cries and the sounds of someone struggling…followed by the soft bang of a door and shortly after, the sounds of footsteps overhead.

Without hesitation, Hiccup erupted from his room and ran for the stairs leading up to the attic. He had recognised the voice.

_Astrid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part tomorrow


	3. Fury, Fire and Vengeance

**3: Fury, Fire and Vengeance**

He had no idea how he knew-he suspected Haakon had been shown by Agatha-but he unerringly located the servants’ stairs to the attic and sprinted up the steep flight, not even hesitating for a moment. It was dark and dusty but light was spilling under the door at the top. Instantly, he grasped the handle and pushed but it was locked. Undeterred, he slammed against it until the door finally gave way and he burst into the room.

The space was almost empty, a simple chair and trestle table pushed against the window under the gable, an oil lamp sitting on the floor where Agatha was slumped on her knees, a shape in the black of a maid crouched by her with a knife to her throat.

“Not a step closer,” Cristina said.

Hiccup froze as she tugged Agatha’s head back, exposing her pale neck and pressing the wicked edge of the carving knife into her skin. He raised his hands slightly.

“Put the knife down, Cristina,” he said quietly. “There is no need for this.”

“There is every need!” she spat, tugging Agatha’s hair cruelly. The way she was moving suggested that the girl’s hands were bound behind her back, her body sheathed in a long white linen nightdress that left little to the imagination.

_It was oh so very hard to recall that she wasn’t Astrid as well, that the ferocious soul of his lover was nestled quiescent within the familiar form. That this woman was holding a blade to the neck of his beloved._

“Why?” Hiccup asked her gently, trying to gauge how she was going to react. The face she presented here was very different to her maid persona.

“Because it should be me getting married, feted and cosseted rather than this plain little girl,” she snarled. Hiccup frowned.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said calmly-because he didn’t, not really. In Berk of this time, money talked and those without money or position didn’t fare as well. It wasn’t a surprise and it wasn’t equitable but was it reason to murder all these people? Cristina bared her teeth at him.

“Don’t lie to me-I heard my mother talking to you,” she sneered.

“And I am supposed to understand?” he asked her calmly, watching her. As her attention focussed on him, the blade of the knife lifted slightly from her skin…and while Astrid would have been waiting to act, Agatha looked terrified.

“You know that the Master- _Mister Perfect Stenersen_ -was sleeping with my mother even when he was courting and getting married to Dagmara the dull?” the maid spat, tugging hard on Agatha’s hair. Hiccup could see the fear and hurt in her blue eyes but she seemed frozen. “When Mother became pregnant, he was making all sorts of promises-to protect his child, to raise them like the child of a gentleman, to see that he never wanted for anything. But when I was born a girl, all those false promises were forgotten. He spurned me and refused to acknowledge me as his. My mother remained in his service and all his promises were worthless because a girl could not inherit-so I was deemed worthless.”

Hiccup knew his face showed disgust and the girl cackled.

“Yes-you understand the irony,” she sneered. “Because the woman he had chosen as his wife was as close to barren as made no difference. They were married for eight years before she finally quickened-and this bitch was all she could produce. Not the precious, long hoped-for son. Just a weak and worthless girl.”

“Except she isn’t,” Hiccup found himself saying, his voice even but edged with anger. There was a plea in Agatha’s eyes now that spoke of her fear.

“No-she isn’t,” Cristina sneered. “Because she’s legitimate. And a legitimate daughter can inherit-if she is married. So she gets love and acknowledgement. She learns the piano and painting and poetry and I scrub until my hands are raw and my knees are those of an old woman. There was no other child so Agatha is all he has. And he never thinks about his _other_ daughter, the one he lied to and abandoned.”

“Let her go, Cristina,” Hiccup said gently. “This isn’t going to achieve anything…”

“Isn’t it?” she spat. “It will remove his precious heir. And then who will he have? Me!”

“And you know it doesn’t work that way, Cristina,” Hiccup told her roughly, his stomach rapidly sinking. “You’re illegitimate. A bastard. There is no way he could ever adopt you-even if you weren’t hanging for murder.”

But she laughed, a shatteringly off-key sound that matched the wild hatred in her cerulean eyes.

“And who is going to turn me in? You? Oh, I’m so sorry. You remember your nice cup of iced tea? I’m afraid you’ll be dead by morning. I…”

“Oh, you mean the poison?” Hiccup asked. “Yeah…I donated it to an Aspidistra. And I swapped the Port at Dinner. It didn’t look too healthy.”

She screamed, her face twisted in rage.

“Some of them will have sipped it-and the lawyer has already died so you haven’t achieved anything!” she spat.

“What did you give them?” he asked her, his eyes locked in hers. He could feel static building, feel her anger thicken the air around them. Somehow, she was linked across the decades with her disembodied spirit and his sensitivity…which he had unexpectedly discovered doing the job…was warning him that she was losing her grip on sanity. Somehow, they were at a crucial nexus in history, a moment crucial to the angry spirit she would become.

“Prussic acid,” she sneered, jerking Agatha hard and biting the knife into her neck, causing a slight trickle of blood to slide down her pale skin and stain the lace collar of her nightgown. “Daddy’s precious girl loves her painting, loves all those beautiful blue skies…so plenty of Prussian Blue around. And the library has more than enough Natural Science books to learn how to make Prussic Acid from it.”

“And you tried to poison me, the lawyer, all the male diners…you seem unfocussed,” Hiccup told her.

“Not really,” Cristina hissed. “You are right. He won’t recognise me. I am his servant. And if his precious Agatha dies, the estate goes to a cousin, Ingvar Jacobsen. So if I can’t have it, I’ll make sure no one does. Not this little bitch, not him, not the cousin. I’ll kill her and burn the place.”

“And is this what your mother wants?” he asked her. “Killing all these people because you were let down by some dishonourable man who betrayed his illegitimate daughter and abandoned her to service. You would always be cared for here-just not as a daughter.”

“My Mother is a bitter old woman, always harping on about how wronged we have been,” she sneered. “He favoured Cook Helga and her husband Harild over us when he gave them the cottage that should have been ours. But I settled them. A nice cup of tea before they set off home tonight. Shame they’ll never make it.”

“The moment you kill her, I will break your neck,” Hiccup promised her, watching the maid slowly rise to her feet, the knife pressed unerringly to Agatha’s neck.

“Then I won’t let her go-not until this house is an inferno,” Cristina scoffed, gesturing for Hiccup to stand aside. “Move over there unless you like the sight of her bleeding…” Warily, he stepped aside, breathing hard. His heart was breaking at the thought that this insane vengeful woman would kill Astrid-his Astrid. The woman he loved…

“Then let me say one last prayer for the woman I love,” he said and clasped his hands in front of his chest.

“ _Pater noster, qui es in caelis,_

_sanctificetur nomen tuum._

_Adveniat regnum tuum._

_Fiat voluntas tua,_

_sicut in caelo, et in terra…_ ”

Static thickened the air and sparked along the edge of the blade. Cristina blinked and jerked, the small shocks causing her to lift the blade away from the prisoner’s neck. And in that moment, something cleared in Agatha’s eyes and she shifted her weight slightly, head-butting the maid brutally. Staggering at the impact, the maid stumbled back, allowing the the nightgown-clad prisoner to scramble up and spin before a bare foot impacted viciously hard into Cristina’s face. The maid slammed to the floor, stunned and the knife skittered away as ‘Agatha’ straightened up, chin lifted and shoulders back, her expression furious.

“Welcome back, Milady,” Hiccup said with a sigh of relief. Astrid stared at him in shock.

“Hiccup? What the Helheim…?’ she demanded as he scooped the knife up and sawed urgently through the dressing gown cord that had been used to bind her wrists.

“I’ll explain later,” he told her, taking her arm and hurrying towards the narrow stairs. “She wants to kill you, I’m not entirely sure her mother isn’t in on the plot and it’s high time this place burnt down.”

“Why don’t I have any shoes?” Astrid asked him bluntly, following him down the stairs at a canter.

“I think you were kidnapped from your bed by her,” he said, glancing back up the stairs. There was a crash and the light had developed a more dancing, flame-like quality. “And I think it’s time to escape. Help me wake the others up.”

She grabbed his arm, fiercely.

“Hiccup-history says that everyone dies in this fire,” she reminded him, her eyes concerned.

“Who knows what actually happened?” he asked her plainly. “Sheriff Poxlout Jorgensen did the worst investigation since Spitelout played ‘eenie meenie’ to determine which of three suspects had robbed a liquor store-despite only one of them being captured red-handed by three concerned citizens in the damned store!”

“Hiccup-if we get everyone out, we cause a paradox that could potentially destroy our own world,” she told him.

“You’ve been reading the Paranormal Journal Problem Page, haven’t you?” he teased her. She nodded, her eyes serious. “Astrid-we’re here. So are Snot, Gustav and the twins. In the bodies of people who were supposed to die in the fire. If we leave them, their charred corpses will appear in the old house in Berk in the morning-and I am not letting them die if there is any way I can try to save them! The spirit altered history by moving us back in time…all I can do is try to protect the ones I love.” He grasped her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “Astrid-you are in the body of Agatha Stenersen, the daughter of the house. I am Haakon, her intended. We both die here. But I’m not going back into my room and sitting there, awaiting my fate because history says I’m supposed to die. I have you to live for. I am not giving up.”

She rose on tiptoes and kissed him gently on the lips.

“There’s my Hiccup,” she murmured. “You’re right, my love. I’ll take this side of the corridor and you that side?”

He nodded and they began urgently hammering on the doors, yelling ‘FIRE!’ There were grumbles and complaints but slowly, the inhabitants began to emerge into hallway, blinking and fastening various dressing gowns around them. Astrid was happy to see Fishlegs and Ruffnut, though neither showed any signs of recognising her, while Hiccup rounded up Snotlout, Gustav and Tuffnut. Both widows, Dagmara and Karl Stenersen emerged but the old lawyer, Anders Halvard, as well as the two other older men who had drunk the Port-Petter Eklund and Olaf Nielsen-were all dead and cold in their beds.

“What’s going on?” Stenersen demanded.

“The maid Cristina kidnapped Agatha from her bed,” Hiccup reported. “She tried to kill her. I heard footsteps overhead and investigated. Thank Odin, I was able to get her away. But the house is on fire. We have to get out.” Astrid nodded.

“It’s true,” she said, staring at the people who were her ‘parents’. She could still feel Agatha’s emotions for them but the part of her that was Astrid was looking at strangers. “We must get out.”

“Where is my daughter?”

The dark shape of Marit emerged from the staircase, her eyes glittering in the light of her oil lamp.

“I said-where is my daughter?” she snarled. Stenersen faced her but Hiccup jumped in.

“In the attic,” he said. “There’s a fire…”

“She tried to kill my daughter,” Stenersen snapped. “She deserves whatever consequences she brings on herself.”

“ _She_ is your daughter as well!” Marit shouted. For a second, there was silence before Snorri began to laugh.

“Preposterous,” he scoffed. Stenersen gave the maid a scornful look.

“As if I would lower myself to be with a servant?” he spat.

There was a moment where Marit’s face was filled with a looked that mixed shock and betrayal…before she snatched a knife from the pocket of her apron and slammed it directly into his heart. He gasped, eyes widening before he stupidly tried to grasp at the handle, sticking out of his body. And then his legs buckled and he collapsed to the floor.

“You can all burn in Helheim!” Marit screamed, smashing the oil lamp at the top of the stairs, a wall of flames bursting up and driving them back. As everyone stared, she pushed by, yelling for her daughter and vanishing up the stairs towards the attic. The crackle and roar of flames was much louder now.

“The servants’ stairs,” Hiccup urged them and ran off to the opposite end of the hallway, Astrid’s hand in his. Glancing back, Hiccup saw that Fishlegs had grabbed Mrs Stenersen’s hand and was hauling her along as the others followed. They found the concealed panel and cautiously made their way down the narrow staircase, then out into the kitchen. The kitchen door was locked, of course, but Snorri and Fischer broken it down using one of the trestle tables and the shocked guests glanced back as flames began to pour out of the first floor windows. The attic was already an inferno and, as they watched, the roof collapsed in. They withdrew further down the garden.

“Karl…” Mrs Stenersen whispered, tears streaming down her face. Casting Hiccup an apologetic look, Astrid pulled away and hugged her ‘mother’. Hiccup scuffed his feet on the gravel, feeling helpless. The inferno had taken place, all his friends were alive and history was probably altered. So why were they still here?

“Obviously the local authorities will need to be informed,” Fischer said, his voice cold and superior. “The scandal is unconscionable. No one will want to be associated with the family after this-no matter what is left.” Snorri and his brother shook their heads and cast a scornful look at Agatha and her newly widowed mother.

“I am certain that neither my sister nor I would want to have anything to do with you,” Tuffnut commented as Hiccup walked forward.

“I don’t care,” he announced, staring back at the burning house and then at the shallow hangers-on. “I will still announce my betrothal to Agatha not because of what dowry she has but because I love her. And I will endure whatever scandal comes to be with her. And I promise…I will always protect her.” Astrid pulled away and ran into his arms, wrapping her arms around him.

“Love you, Babe,” she murmured as he gently tilted her chin up and kissed her. There was a pause as the house collapsed with an enormous crack and roar and he felt the static wrap around them. A sudden wave of fear washed over him. Astrid’s grip on him tightened as they felt weightless and disorientated…and then they hit the ground once more.

“OW!”

“Get off me, Butt-Elf!”

“Fishlegs…how much do you actually weight?”

“OhThorohThorohThor we’re all alive!”

Astrid looked up, back in her twenty-first century clothing and saw Gustav desperately crawling out from under a panicking Fishlegs, Snotlout rubbing his head and the twins scuffling as Tuff tried to shove Ruff off of him. Hiccup was lying at her side, blinking rapidly.

“We’re alive,” she murmured as Hiccup sat up.

“Why?” he murmured.

“You changed history,” she recalled. “They murdered six people…but died in the fire. But now, everyone will know the truth.”

“How did we get back? Why not the instant we emerged from the building?” he murmured.

“You were pretty romantic when everyone else was an ass…” she murmured. “You promised to protect me…” His eyes widened and he stared at her.

“Everyone out,” he yelled and the others, still grumbling, got up and ambled to the door-to find it opened easily. Hiccup grabbed Astrid’s hand and they followed-but the moment the twins cleared the door, it slammed closed. And nothing they could do would budge it. Astrid looked up.

“It’s not over, is it?” she asked, patting her pockets for anything of use. He pulled her back, seeing the static spark from the metal fixtures again.

“No,” he murmured as the static whirled around them. “We found out why.” She looked up into his eyes. “The article Fishlegs found never mentioned any servants-either missed or found. So they were never laid to rest.”

“And thus are able to roam, unquiet and still full of hatred and vengeance.” She looked up. “She’s still here, isn’t she?” He nodded, able to feel the surge of hatred, the air growing colder even as the static built.

“Why did she let us go?” he murmured. “I promised to protect you.” Her eyes widened.

“What if she does what no one can protect me from?” she murmured and stared into his eyes. “Babe-I’ve got something I wanted to tell you…before we got called over here…” He shook his head.

“Astrid…I really wish you had…” he whispered. She stared into his eyes, suddenly unsure. The beautiful, fierce woman he loved was scared.

“I didn’t expect…” she whispered.

“You know that a powerful spirit can possess…can use…can destroy…” he murmured, crawling to her side and wrapping his arms around her. “The younger and more vulnerable…the worse the possibilities…”

“I should have said,” she murmured but he rested his forehead against hers.

“And I said I would protect you,” he murmured. “In the past or the present or the future.” Then he closed his eyes. “But I cannot prevent everything.” He fumbled in the back pocket of his leather trousers and pulled out a silver cross. Her eyes flashed open.

“But it will harm…” she began but he pulled back long enough to loop it around her neck, grabbing her hand as she clawed at the chain. “NOOOOOO!”

“She’s already here,” he whispered, his eyes shining with tears. “I’m sorry, my love.” She thrashed, sparks flying off her as she tried to get away. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her against him, one hand behind her head and the other resting tenderly over her stomach. Hating himself as never before, he began to whisper the only words he knew held any hope…

_“Adjure te, spiritus nequissime, per Deum omnipotentem…”_

Astrid screamed, the sound shredding his heart as he continued to say the words and he felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up as the temperature dropped almost to freezing. He knew that he had enough symbols of protection about his person to keep the spirit away but he needed it out of its host first-hating the likely cost. Static arched from the metallic light fittings and then Astrid went limp in his arms as the ghostly shape of Cristina rose from his fiancee, her horribly burned face fixed in a grimace of hatred.

“You cannot protect her!” she roared. “You killed me, Haakon Hofferson. Now you will learn what it is like to have all your dreams dashed.” She hovered over Astrid, who was limp in his arms. But he gave a thin smile.

“Your mistake, your big mistake, was bringing me back to my time,” he told her, reaching in his pocket. When he had arrived back in the twenty-first century, he had found himself back in his own body-including his own clothes…and all the contents of his pockets and pouches. Deftly, he flipped open a small pill box to display the crumbled dust within. “Our special brew: Holy Water, Dust from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, pulverised rock from the catacombs under Rome and a few other herbs and minerals that you wouldn’t even know…” He looked up into the spirit’s face. “You know, I try to be kind, to understand that some spirits have suffered terrible wrongs and seek to defuse their anger and help them find peace…” He took a deep breath. “But you attacked my fiancée and our innocent unborn child, a child I didn’t even know about until minutes ago. I did not wrong you: those who did have been dead for over a century. And if you had left things, we would have ensured that you had a decent burial and were allowed to finally rest.” He jerked his hands and the crumbled dust hit the ghost full in the face.

_And it stuck._

“You failed…” she sneered and then her eyes widened. Before his eyes, her translucent form began to bubble and dissolve, her ruined features melting and thinning until she finally dissipated, a hideous discordant shriek shattering any remaining glass and settling the carpet alight.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he scooped Astrid up in his arms. “But whatever the time, whatever the situation, I will always protect Astrid. You had your time. You made it personal. I just made it final.”

The carpet was roaring like an inferno as the residual energy washed across the room. The stairs were on fire, the bannisters flaming ferociously. Even the walls were burning. A second voice, the dark edge familiar as Marit’s bitter tone, echoed amid the roaring flames but there was only a faint presence: clearly Cristina’s anger had been much stronger. Ducking under the backwash and coughing in the smoke, Hiccup staggered up and stumbled away. But on reaching the door and trying to pull it open, it was still jammed.

“Oh come on,” he protested as he paused, leaning against the door frame. Marit was cackling and the flames were roaring almost horizontally at them. But suddenly, he could hear the roar of an engine, rapidly approaching. Throwing himself sideways and trying to protect Astrid, he was just missed by a black SUV as it crashed through the doors. Snotlout hung out of the window.

“Get in!” he yelled and Hiccup scrambled up, scrambling into the back with Astrid in his arms. The Sheriff reversed out and screeched round, then accelerated down the hill with the second SUV containing the twins, Gustav and Fishlegs in hot pursuit.

“We need the hospital,” Hiccup said shortly, staring into Astrid’s ashen face. She seemed to be barely breathing, her skin cold…but a faint pulse fluttered under his urgent fingers. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Cuz-what the Helheim happened?” Snot demanded, though he floored the gas and pulled away from the second car.

“We went back in time, you guys didn’t know who you were, I found out the owner of the spirit we felt and it attacked Astrid and I,” he summarised. “Oh and we’ve burnt the house down again.” Glancing in his mirror, Snotlout sighed.

“Gustav-radio the fire department. Loki’s Leap is on fire,” he ordered over his radio and sighed. “Maybe this time they won’t rebuild the damned place.”

“Just get us out of here,” Hiccup sighed. “I’ll explain everything later.”

-o0o-

Everyone was seated uncomfortably on the standard orange plastic chairs of the hospital waiting room as the doctors and nurses treated Astrid. Even though he was her fiancée and next of kin, Hiccup was made to wait outside as they examined her and he was pacing ceaselessly, causing the others to groan. His father had come to join them, his huge shape out of place on the struggling plastic chair and his big face confused.

“What happened, son?” he asked worriedly, sipping his lukewarm hospital vending machine ‘coffee’. Hiccup paced across to the door and back.

“Same old, same old,” he said bitterly. “Called back to Berk to help some supernatural murder mystery, ambushed by a violently angry spirit of an unburied murderess, transported through time, foiled several murders, managed to get back home to find the spirit trying to take over our unborn child.”

Stoick stared at him.

“You mean…you’re…” he began.

“Probably not any more,” Hiccup said quietly. “I used the thirteenth century cross blessed by the Pope and the standard exorcism verse but the spirit still fought me-why Astrid is so weak. In the end, I used the Powder.” Fishlegs looked up and his face filled with awe.

“And did it…?” he asked.

“Melted her like acid,” Hiccup confirmed. “Absolute last resort.”

“And you used all of it, right?” the husky man said in a resigned voice. “Do you know how many times I got thrown out of the Church for trying to collect dust?”

“We can send the twins to get dust bunnies,” Hiccup suggested. “They all owe us. Owe me.”

“Owe what? And is it dangerous?” Tuff asked hopefully.

“Very,” Fishlegs said in a stern voice. “We have a mission for you.”

“We’re in!” they said in unison. “It’s much more exciting than policing on Berk.” Stoick glanced at his son and reached out, grabbing his wrist.

“Son-she’ll be fine,” he assured him. “Astrid is a strong woman.” Snotlout nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said honestly. “I never would have called you if I had known.”

“None of us did,” Hiccup reassured him and then looked back at his father. “What if this is it, Dad? What if she loses the baby-and we never have any more? Cristina was determined to make everyone suffer as she believed she had.”

“Then you and Astrid will still have each other-and there are always options, son,” Stoick murmured. “Don’t bring sorrow on yourself before it happens. You are a decent and brave man who helped your cousin, prevented any further deaths and got everyone out.”

“When the flames die down, you need to send a Priest in there to say prayers for Marit and Cristina, the maids who died during the original fire. They were never buried or memorialised and without that, there is always the risk that there could still be some anger hanging around the location.” Hiccup sighed as Gustav locked his phone and looked up.

“I’ve booked onto a couple of extra course,” he announced. “This has really opened my eyes to how much I don’t know…”

“Thor help us,” Snotlout grumbled as the doctor walked in.

“Mr Haddock?” he asked as Hiccup scrambled forward.

“Yes?”

“Your fiancée is awake and asking for you,” he said. Shaking with anxiety, Hiccup followed him and found Astrid sitting up in a bed, swathed in a white hospital gown and almost as pale as the bed linen. But she smiled as she saw him and he raced to her side, unable to wait to feel her arms around him. For a moment, he squeezed her, feeling her strong arms crush him back before she pulled away and smiled.

“How are you?” he asked urgently and she smiled up at him.

“Tired,” she admitted. “But I’m not in pain.” She fished under the covers and handed him and small black and white photograph. Her lips tilted in a smile.

“Is this…?’ he mumbled, staring at the image.

“Baby,” she murmured. “He’s still okay.” His eyes trailed to the cross still around her neck and gave a sound between a sigh and a laugh.

“Oh thank Thor,” he gasped and kissed her urgently. Then he stared into her eyes. “I can quit…we can quit…” But she leaned forward and kissed him again.

“I may be the first paranormal investigator on maternity leave but I am going nowhere,” she told him firmly. “I’ve done a lot of work for this job and I’m not about to give all that up. You’re the only person who could have got through what we did-and stopped any more kids being killed.”

“I’m not proud of what I did,” he murmured.

“You kept your promise,” she reminded him. “If more people had done that, we wouldn’t be here. Now I promise you…everything will be alright.” He sighed.

“Promise?” he whispered. She kissed him again.

“You will keep me safe and I will keep Junior safe,” she said and then she sighed. “Except from your family. Do we have to tell them?” He sighed.

“I may have let the cat out of the bag already…” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“I take it all back,” she said. “When I get my hands on my stakes, you’re a dead man!” But she was smiling as she said it and he responded as only a wise man would: he kissed her.

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading. Best wishes!
> 
> A/N2: Vidar was the son of Odin and a Giantess. He was one of the Norse gods of vengeance, for he slew the giant wolf Fenrir to avenge Odin's death.


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